


Three Months Lost

by Ladylazarus13



Series: Three Nights in Paradise [2]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/M, Part 2: Three Nights in Paradise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21555160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladylazarus13/pseuds/Ladylazarus13
Summary: After everything Michael's lost and everything she's done, somehow the universe has given her a second chance when Gabriel Lorca steps back into her life. But sometimes down is up, sometimes up is down. Even when lost things are found, not everything is as it seems. Part 2 ofThree Nights in Paradise
Relationships: Michael Burnham/Gabriel Lorca, Michael Burnham/Gabriel Lorca | Mirror Gabriel Lorca
Series: Three Nights in Paradise [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560073
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	Three Months Lost

The cool breeze that brushed along her back was a welcome relief from the hot rays of the Risian suns. Michael couldn’t resist smiling spotting Gabriel in the distance. His grey shirt almost a speck in the sand. With one last stretch, Michael took off fast. Sprinting hard until she was beside him. Gabriel shot her a smile as they both fell into a steady rhythm. Their sneakers kicking up grains of sand as they ran to some far off point.

Eventually, Gabriel jogged to a stop. As he took in long, deep breaths, he rested his hands behind his head in an attempt to take in more air. When his warm, blue eyes found hers, Michael’s heart leapt. Leaning up, she pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before turning away to stretch out her quads. It was strange, but Michael didn't feel worn out. Not even a little sore. And she was just about to tell him so when she looked up to notice he was gone. Shielding her eyes, Michael squinted out at the shore. A trail of clothes led to Gabriel already waist-deep in the gentle waves. Beads of water running down his back.

It bothered her for a moment realizing that he kept disappearing. Instead of analyzing it, Michael shook the thoughts away along with her clothes. Wading out into the clear blue water, she swam out to him. As a way of greeting, Michael ran kisses along his back until her lips tasted of salt and something distinctly him. When Gabriel turned around, she simply continued, leaving soft gentle kisses along the expanse of his hard chest. Her method changed to playful nips along his shoulder, and the affection in his gaze melted to one of lust. The hands resting on her hips pulled her tight against him. Then he kissed her hard. Kissed her until she was panting and breathless all over again.

Michael's sense of time felt off. They could have been standing there for minutes or for hours. It didn't seem to matter with his arms around her. Every time he looked at her, she couldn't help but feel a swell of gratefulness. For what, she couldn't name, but Michael continued to try and show him how much this meant. It wasn't until the arrival of the three moons, eerily hanging low in the sky that she realized how late it must be.

Stepping back slightly, Michael wasn’t able to take her eyes off the three moons now that they’d caught her attention. Instead of their usual path along the night sky, the moons seemed to be falling. And fast. Michael reached out to take Gabriel's hand, but her fingers only grasped water when a wave crashed forward. The impact knocked the breath out of her as she tried to shout. Her voice coming out cracked and garbled as the water splashed into her mouth. If only she could say his name. Again, she tried again. His name sounded warped as it tumbled from her mouth. She swam in a circle, waiting to see him. To hear him. But Michael was only met with the sound of the ocean and whistling winds.

The vast dark blue of the water came up higher and higher until Michael was struggling to stay afloat. Rise and take in more air, as the waves continued battering against her. Still, she tried to find Gabriel as the moons continued their rapid descent. Soon the largest of the three crashed in the distance. It’s rocky face covered in flame from the high velocity. It's two sisters were watching and following, falling just as fast. And in seconds Michael was swept away beneath the waves.

  
  


With a gasp, Michael shot up with a shiver in her small cot. Blinking up toward the ceiling, an emergency sprinkler was activated on high pressure. The water left everything wet, her yellow jumpsuit soaked through. Michael kicked the heavy sheet wrapped around her legs to the floor with a splash.

“Looks like someone already took their morning shower," sneered a voice through the com. "With her clothes on too. How stupid of our mutineer.”

The voice belonged to Guard #478. The one who suggested the non-standard yellow jumpsuit. He'd bragged about it for many nights after. "To make the prisoner easier to spot during altercations." That had been his reasoning in a report and approved without question by superiors. Even now after three months in isolation, it was the only garment given to her.

The guard had left the com open. His breathing faint, but there. Waiting. Listening. 

So Michael closed her eyes and laid back down into the puddle that had become her pillow. Giving them the satisfaction of a reaction from their "Vulcan" was not an option.

The first and second shift guards assigned in her area remained indifferent. After all, there were more witnesses. Less time to come up with a plausible story or delete computer logs. But in the evenings, their coldness turned to cruelty. For betraying the Federation. For killing a loved one. For whatever reason, the night shift guards found their justification.

It began her first night in isolation. A com opened and the low hum radiated from the open channel met with silence. Michael waited for the guards to say something, but instead, the white noise continued for hours. It wasn't until she started to fall asleep that one of the guard's hit play and a familiar voice filled the room. Her whole body went rigid, eyes wide in shock.

_"Starfleet may never see a finer captain than Captain Philippa Georgiou. Her integrity. Bravery. Pure mastery of skill had made her one of the fleet's most decorated captains. And for the time I served under her, a time I consider all too brief."_ That was where Saru made a soft clicking noise that was still picked up by the mic. Michael could practically see him at the podium. Tall and strong, his speech memorized but wrapped with sadness. His long fingers gently pressing to where his threat ganglia must be protruding out. For a prey species, it was only logical that feeling such great sadness could only mean death was soon to follow.

Saru cleared his throat on the recording and continued his eulogy. Each time he said Philippa's name, Michael could hear the tears he held back. Each time he spoke of her bravery, of her kind heart. All Michael could do was roll to her side and place the rough pillow over her head. Letting the guard think she was trying to block the speech out. And as they turned the volume up higher and higher through the night, Michael never slept. Never moved. Kept the pillow there so as Saru's beautiful speech looped through the night-- Michael could cry without shame.

It was the first night of many. Loud music blared throughout the night. Banging against her door to startle her awake. Anything in an attempt to unnerve. Michael had wondered if they were hoping for a reaction like they had the first night. While the noise was difficult to sleep through and hurt her ears, Michael refused to move from her cot. She refused to give them the satisfaction of a response. An acknowledgment.

But soon the night shift guards found new methods. One they must have found effective and stroked their warped sense of justice. A list of all those who died at the Binary had been read by captains and admirals during the memorial. All 8,186 names. Some sobbing through their list because it had been their loved ones who had perished. And on this loop of names so long it took the entire night to read through, Captain Georgiou's was always listed first. Every night for a month, Michael heard her name and 8,185 others.

After that...the guards began reading the list of casualties of the war. The injured and the newly dead. Survivors were minimal after all it was rare for Klingons to take prisoners, but those few were included. The list grew every night and so did Michael's guilt. Then when the Buran...

Michael took a deep breath pushing the thoughts away. Refusing to acknowledge it. She’d suffered through their extra “care” for months now and hadn’t broken. The guards were taking a risk to do this during the day. Taking their last chance to finally succeed however uninspired. But today was not going to be the day. No, because her possessions were already packed in her duffel, safe from the water still raining down. Because today, she was finally being transferred to a different facility.

Michael took the few remaining minutes she had to clear her mind. Attempt to find her center. A chance to push down the fear that had clutched at her throat. The only feeling allowed to remain was the warmth that dream Gabriel's smile had caused. Grateful for a dream where Gabriel was well and whole in all the ways she remembered.

The water tampered down to a trickle when the emergency sprinkler disengaged. As the door to her cell slid open, Michael refused to move. Guard #907 yelled, banging her fist against the metal door frame. Michael refused to move. When heavy boots sloshed through the water to the side of her cot, Michael finally moved. With a small, slow turn of her head, she opened her eyes to see the frowning, ruddy face of Guard #907. The expression Michael gave hopefully conveyed boredom. Flippant in its total disregard. And she felt a small twinge of joy to see the frown in the guard's face deepened along with the rage in her eyes. Because there was nothing anyone of them could do to her anymore.

* * *

The other three prisoners were talkative. Too talkative. Michael had never been one for idle small talk before and she hadn't developed a skill for it now. Forced into isolation for so long, her mouth was dry at the thought of even making an attempt. Even without her pips, Michael still felt something stretched between her and the others. It was no different while in prison before isolation or on this shuttle. While she was in no position to judge with her wrists bound just as tight as theirs, there was no common ground between them.

As the three wondered about the next prison facility, Michael tried to let her mind go blank. The closest she'd gotten to was earlier that morning, but it was futile. It didn’t matter either way. She couldn't completely stop all feelings. There was no reprieve from this cycle of suffering. Even going through the rules of logic and meditating didn't help as much. Finding her center was near impossible these last six months. Her emotions were on a pendulum. Swinging erratic between clarity and heart-wrenching guilt.

Any attempt to find solace was knocked from her as the shuttle rocked. The prisoners kept talking through it and from the sound of it, their crimes were petty. Nothing like what weighed across her shoulders. Michael chose to ignore them, keeping her eyes trained outside the window. Watching the stars thin to slivers of speeding light. It would possibly be a long time until she was able to be in any vessel with warp. She may never see the stars like this again. The sadness that welled up in her at the thought, drained just as fast. Because one of them started bragging.

His bald head flung back as he laughed. Laughed about the Andorians he’d killed. Laughed at the look she shot him. The wave of emotion that crashed through Michael couldn’t be ignored. Glaring was the only natural response and now all of them watched her because she was the mutineer. “Starfleet's first” was how the weasel-looking one in the middle put it.

The bald one with his graveled voice radiated pleasure about the cold, dead bodies of his victims. For the last six months, her every waking thought was on those she’d hurt. Even sleep wasn't a reprieve. It was her direct action that sparked a war. The list and guilt expanded like the universe. Stretching out and infinite in its punishment.

The one prisoner leaned forward in her seat, her voice spitting venom. Saying it was Michael's fault that her cousin was dead. 8,000 deaths, her cousin’s blood among that soaked number. Michael’s mouth went dry, but she couldn’t help it. She had to correct her. 8,186. No, she was responsible for 8,186 deaths and counting.

Michael diverted her eyes back to the window, choosing to ignore them. Ignore the taunting way the middle one called her a mutineer. Instead, she chose to concentrate on the blue organisms now cascading outside. Forcing her mind not to go there. To not shift to Philippa. Not to her sightless eyes. Her limp, twisted body on the floor of T'Kuvma's ship. No, she wouldn't think about her.

Thoughts could be trapped almost as much as the body. Michael had known that but never really experienced it until prison. And she'd learned that well, but she couldn't tamper down the images. Not before she thought of Gabriel.

The dream that morning with his body so warm against her own. His eyes bluer than every sea and every sky she'd ever seen. Pleasant thoughts so quickly distorted to a man battered and broken. Another tally on her long list. Michael had only heard what happened to Gabriel, but it was enough to imagine. It was enough to turn a dream into a nightmare.

So when the shuttle pilot rushed out the door into the growing blue, Michael couldn't resist. With a slow swallow, she spoke to the prisoners in a calm, clear voice.

“That's species GS54. An organism that feeds on electricity. It's feeding on the shuttle's power systems...unless the pilot can get rid of the infestation fast enough, they'll drain us of all of our power. And we'll drift until our oxygen runs out. Or we freeze to death. Whichever comes first.”

Horror and true panic set into their faces. Each clank of their cuffs, the rising of their voices is all they had now. Hoping to survive. Practically begging to be rescued. Michael may have felt like that once, but now....she kept her eyes on a star in the distance. Preparing for whichever comes. A small part of her hoping it would at least be quick and a sense of peace shrouds her mind. A peace she hadn't felt in ages.

Then the unmistakable bright blue light of a tractor beam surrounded the shuttle and that long lost peace vanishes as fast as it was found. 

* * *

_“Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look about her, and to wonder what was going to happen next.”_ Michael mentally recited as she followed the others and Landry, the Chief Security Officer. Alice in Wonderland always found its way into her thoughts. Michael had reread the book countless times growing up. She had memorized it. Every word she knew by heart. But as one of the only items she had in prison, it truly became an escape. Her world lense became refocused with Alice in mind. 

Thinking of Alice’s journey down the rabbit hole only made the Discovery even more dreamlike. For the last six months, Michael was sure she would never be allowed on a starship again. Labeled too much of a risk to be near a computer even. She couldn't resist taking a deep breath of the familiar scent of recycled air. The artificial lights programmed to the right calibration felt miraculous. The U.S.S. Discovery was a brand new vessel. It shone with magnificence. In another life, Michael could imagine being the captain of such a fine vessel. A team of science experts and a journey to the far reaches of the galaxy. To discover anything and everything among the stars. The very purpose of Starfleet represented in its namesake.

But this wasn’t another life. This wasn’t another dream and this was not where she was supposed to be. As they walked through the sleek corridors, all Michael could do was wonder what would happen next. 

Later when Michael stood in the center of the room with a lunch tray gripped tight, the question only grew. Her body urged her to sit with fellow officers. It had taken Michael months to grow comfortable eating with others on the Shenzhou. But the flash of silver and gold on their uniforms made Michael hesitate. Their looks of disgust and morbid curiosity made her stomach churn. And not for the first time, Michael wished she could go back to when things were better. A time that she should never have taken for granted.

As if the universe decided to listen to her silent wish, Michael walked right into a ghost. Familiar red hair bounced into view, but the side of stubble was not. Neither was the long piece of silver that ran along her face. Michael’s eyes found Keyla’s. One warm brown was familiar. Though the terror in its depths was not. The other, a blue implant, was refocusing fast. It must be receiving signals from Keyla's mind that there was an error. Michael could practically hear the quiet rapid refocusing of the mechanical iris. Trying to correct because it was impossible for Michael Burnham to be standing here.

They stared at one another for what felt like a long time. Disbelief hanging in the air and the room hushed to silence. Michael tried to formulate words. Her tongue twisted, heavy in her mouth. All the imagined apologies rose like bile in her throat. She could only get out Keyla's name before the woman pushed past her and strode out of the mess.

Everyone was staring, even Landry smirked as if this was a show. Entertainment. A titillating horror come to life before breakfast.

So a strange sense of calm came over Michael when the other prisoners attacked. It wasn’t the peace she had for a few moments in the shuttle earlier, but neutralizing them felt good. All the muscles that had gone unused in the past few months warming up with ease. Her body able to act first before the feelings could catch up. The sadness. The pain. The guilt.

“Captain wants to see you,” said Landry who’d moved toward the fray. Michael glanced up to find a phaser rifle aimed at her chest.

* * *

As the turbolift headed towards the bridge, Michael questioned the probability of this. What were the chances of a new Federation vessel being at this end of the sector and during wartime no less? The chance of the ship saving their prison shuttle just as their pilot's body floated out? Maybe if they had been stranded for a few days but the Discovery had been right there. As if expectant.

Then there was the matter of seeing Keyla. The probability seemed slim that she would have been assigned this ship. Yet, there she was. Reinstated after a massive injury, possible PTSD from the battle. 

Michael did not believe in any religious system. It was illogical to believe the universe had a plan. To think it had some or any say in the events that unfolded in an individual's life. But a flicker of doubt surged through Michael. Because when the turbolift door slid open and the captain's chair slowly turned, Michael was unsure of everything.

Saru. How could Saru be here? Sitting in the captain's chair. Staring at her with incredulity. Fear lingering in his eyes. Ever so slowly Saru spun his chair and attention back to the bridge. Landry said something about him not being the captain, but Michael didn’t really hear her. The universe was laughing too loudly. It might be illogical to believe there was a universal plan, but if this wasn't some nightmarish cosmic joke...what else could it be?

* * *

Landry escorted her to the captain's ready room door revealing darkness. In each window of the room for a moment reminded Michael of paintings. Countless stars hung with such precision that only a brush could imitate. A silhouette of a man was facing them, studying their perfection as if for the first time. And as her vision adjusted to the darkness and slowly increasing light, she could see the gold trim of his uniform. The glinting lines running across all too familiar broad shoulders.

Even without the blue glow of the holocall, she'd seen him in that uniform almost every night for two months. Saw him the very same night when everything fell apart.

Michael forced herself not to move. To breath. To do anything. Because up is down and down is up. That’s what Alice taught her, hadn’t she?

It wasn't possible for this to be a dream, but it wasn’t possible for him to be standing there. Keyla being here made sense. An officer given enough time to be reinstated. While they did not see eye to eye, Saru was an excellent crew member. His promotion to a new vessel was expected. In times of war, bodies were needed to fulfill the mission. But this was too many improbable people on one ship. It was too unlikely to be a coincidence. 

Then the silhouette spoke and Michael dug her nails into her palm. To feel something. To keep from acting. Anything to remain grounded as the very universe seemed to flip on its axis.

“No matter how deep in space you are, always feel like you can see home. Don't you think? Maybe it's just me. Forgive the lighting or lack thereof. Recent battle injury." The deep silk of his voice, the southern twang peeking out on certain syllables was unmistakable.

"They're certain there's nothing they can do if I want to keep my own eyes, and I do. I have to suffer light change slowly.” He tilted his head and Michael’s breath caught in her throat. She’d had nightmares similar to this over the last few months. Of his eyes mutilated, the sockets empty holes or something far worse for her imagination to fill. 

Finally, he turned from the windows to face her. As the light increased to a soft glow, Michael could finally breathe again. It was like seeing the dark side of the moon. Familiar but all new. And his beautiful blue eyes were exactly as she'd remembered them.

It was Gabriel. It was him. Whole and well. Michael's mind raced to find an explanation.

During the trial, she'd looked for Gabriel in a sea of faces. Hoping to see him. A deep hope was that he'd be there to support her in word or action. The realistic version that buoyed to the surface was to simply see him. To know he was alive even if he looked at her with no depth of feeling other than contempt. Just to know he was alive.

But that never happened and Michael was left only hope.

That hope lasted for two months until one night when Guard #907 opened the com into her cell. The crew manifest of a recently destroyed starship was read in full. More names to add to a long and bloody number. On and on it went until soon names became more and more familiar. Michael refused to react, but her eyes clenched shut. It was the name of Gabriel’s first officer, then the chief of security. She bit the inside of her cheek as each name was read. 

It was on that night she learned the U.S.S. Buran was destroyed. The captain, the lone survivor. The guards were happy to provide additional information. How the man had barely survived. Beaten within an inch of his life. Eyes suffered permanent damage. That was also the second and final time she rolled over and placed her pillow above her head to hide from the camera. 

But what stopped her from rushing into his arms now was the strange way his eyes trained on her. Even when they met on Risa, Gabriel had looked at her with such warmth and interest. Now it was as if she was something he couldn't quite place. The same blue eyes that entranced her flashed with no recognition. Everything he had felt for her was once revealed in his eyes. A playful glow to molten desire to affection. Maybe even love. But Gabriel...the Captain looked at her as if she was a stranger. 

"I like to think it makes me mysterious. No? Captain Gabriel Lorca. Welcome to Discovery,” Gabriel said, introducing himself with ease and Michael’s blood went cold. 

Gabriel said something about not being shy and casually offered her a fortune cookie from the wooden bowl on his desk before plopping one into his mouth. The gravity of the situation seemed so far removed that Michael was sure she would float off into the emptiness of space any second. How he'd talked about those cookies on Risa. Wanting to share them with her. That second night when Gabriel told her he never read his fortune anymore. And minutes later she had kissed him for the first time. Now he offered one as if it had meant nothing. 

His beard was gone now. All clean-shaven and seemed older without it. The stress of the war and his injuries may have taken a physical and mental toll. As they went back and forth, Michael seemed to be experiencing this outside of herself. Watching from above. All she could do was attempt to fight against the current of emotion. A final test of her sanity when Gabriel finally got to the point. 

"I have something on deck that requires every trained mind available. You're gonna help us out."

"No," Michael replied without even a second of hesitation. 

"Excuse me?" 

The disbelief and indignation in his voice made Michael look past him and out at the stars. He had never used a tone like that with her before and it hurt. It was a new type of hurt that tangled her heart into tiny knots. This was too much. For a moment she considered if this could be some twisted, petty game but for the few months they had been something to each other...Michael knew him well enough. Gabriel was too proud of a man to be so uselessly cruel. It benefited no one to keep up the charade. 

"No thank you. Respectfully, I owe a debt for my crime, and it'd be best... I'd prefer to serve my time without getting involved," said Michael. Her eyes drifted back to him and the anger she found there made her whole body clench in a mockery of fight or flight. After all, there was no way out of this. 

"You think I care what your preferences are? Until your vessel's repaired, you'll be assigned to quarters and put to work," Gabriel snapped. "I'm not a chauffeur. There's no free rides on my ship. You were once a Starfleet officer. I will use you or anything else I can to achieve my mission."

"And what mission is that, sir?" Michael asked quickly. She needed him to talk and reveal something that would finally make logical sense. 

Again that anger was back along with confusion as he stared at her for a long moment. As if gathering his thoughts and she realized then that his anger wasn’t toward her. It was for something underlying and unseen. Something very, very wrong. 

Would Starfleet reinstate an officer so quickly? Michael thought back to Keyla. The number of casualties growing. If they needed people in the Captain's chair with a good record and experience...would they put him back into the seat if he wasn't fit to resume duty? As he spoke to her as if he never knew her with the same voice that still sent shivers down her spine. The same eyes that made her skin feel like she was on fire, but now looked right through her. And it became a strong and frightening possibility that was the case. Gabriel simply didn't remember. 

Finally Gabriel answered. “To win the war, of course. To send everyone home. Safe and happy…dismissed.”

Michael started to turn toward the door, but her feet felt gravity locked to the floor. The beginnings of the quiet question slipping out of her mouth before she could stop it. “Do you remember...?" 

“Remember what?” Gabriel said quick, taken aback. His scowl deepening until realization sparked in his eyes. “You mean you? Do I remember you?”

Gabriel seemed to burn with curiosity. It was as if Michael was a puzzle piece he couldn’t find a place for, but refused to give up on. The crunch of the fortune cookie in his palm was loud in the silence as they studied each other. Finally, Michael looked away. 

“Please…” Michael paused, swallowing the rest of her words. A thousand things sprang to mind. _Please remember me. Please look at me. Really look. Past the yellow jumpsuit and the title of mutineer. Please know that everything I did was to stop the war, I never wanted to hurt you. Please. Please._ But Michael was approaching this situation with too much emotion. Something was wrong and to jump without further investigation would be folly.

“Please, disregard that question, Captain" With a sharp nod, Michael turned to leave. Leaving him in the dim light, perplexed. As distant as the suns of Risa, thousands of light years away. She had to study this situation further before making any decisions. With the available information at present, there was no logical reason to divulge their history. To remind him that he had belonged to her if it could hurt them both was something she would avoid at all costs. 

Michael could feel his eyes on her back until the cool metal door slid closed, separating them. But she missed his changing expression as Gabriel stared at her retreating form. How the look in his blue eyes shifted from confusion to seething rage. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think below! I'll hopefully be consistent with my updates, but definitely subscribe so you don't miss anything!


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